


In to Deep

by EldrichRose



Series: House of Cards [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Drug Use, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldrichRose/pseuds/EldrichRose
Summary: He fell into this life unwillingly, anger got the best of him now he's working for the Kingpin. He's trying his best for his failing marriage but things just keep pilling up and he's drowning now. He has to make the choices no one wants to, become the guard for someone he can't stand and take the lives of people he once knew. At the end of this, every carefully placed card, one on top of the other. Can he keep the balance between Mogar and Micheal? Or will the house of card come falling down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist I've made for this can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jm7k4MyqRU&list=PLaIjLbFBkYynkUTRdiMPy6znzfLN1k5zO). This is my first multi story in a long while so I how you can bare with me as I update.

He watched the packed club while sipping his water. Pulsing lights, heavy bass vibrating through out his body, and a mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor. The city's most popular night club was for damn sure packed on this Saturday night. Normally he’d be at home, with his wife, both of them playing games and relaxing for the weekend. Though, if he’s being honest, they’d probably be arguing that night about something stupid, which brought him back to why he’s here in the first place. Sighing, he pushed the more unpleasant thoughts to the back he perked as he caught a glimpse of someone he thought he knew. Just as he was standing up to go over there,  a large and imposing figure halts him in his tracks. Peering up, his blood ran cold at Los Santos’s most notorious psychopath standing casually in front of him, black skull mask and all. He put space between them for while he wasn’t going to back down from the staring contest, he wasn’t dumb enough to stand _that_ close while doing so. He studied him for a moment before taking a seat next to his turning his attention to the dance floor. He adjusted his hoodie, pulling the hood lower hoping that would give him some form of anonymity. 

 

“Micheal?” it was a quick simple question, and it took all he had to deny it. Just say no and go home, he can get out of this before it begins. Somewhere between the yes and no of his internal conversation his body sat down on its own and nodded. “Good” Well fuck great, there was no turning back now. 

 

Vagabond glanced at his briefly as he slipped into the empty seat beside his. Without a second glance he went back to staring at the dance floor, and to most people he looked like he was just casually watching. However being this close gave him another answer. He saw the glimmer of a gun, several guns, tucked away and a few knives as well hidden within his leather jacket. His posture was anything but relaxed, it was tense and ready to act the first sign of trouble, and the was he looked around without moving his head a sign of very intense training to be unnoticed.  He was so focused on the man he jumped when a bubbly blond bartender sat a drink next to the guy. She waved at him before going back to helping other customers and he coughed hoping no one noticed just how jumpy he was. The music sounded like a fuzzy haze in his mind as he sat there waiting for him to say something, anything, and hopefully get this over quickly. No luck, and what felt like hours later Vagabond finally reached for the glass without taking his eyes off the dance floor and just played with it. He could feel his patience slipping, anger problems kicking in, he just fucking sat there being ignored in favor of something else. Before his body could possibly get him in anymore trouble than he was already in the man gestured to the dance floor; more importantly to a certain figure in the massive crowd. It was like he was in a different place altogether as he looked over and caught saw of him. It was the same walls, same loud music and expensive drinks and whores but _he_ was there. How _he_ went unnoticed will forever be a mystery to him. The guy practically swallowed the attention of every person in the room and _he_ was loving it.

 

Green and gold was the first thing that came to his mind as watched him danced. Vivid green eyes lined in gold, matching loose gold tank-top and skin hugging jeans with hair that looked as if was just fucked. There was little crown perched on his head irked for some reason he couldn't place. There was this infuriating smug on his face with a too large nose, yet something about him was so fucking inciting and it pissed him off even more because he couldn’t place why. Men weren't his thing despite what his friend joked about when drunk. He was married for a reason and he wanted to stay that way. He focused on the smug, and  he could admit why everyone was attracted the handsome guy, however  he almost missed what the other man was saying. It was sharp and quick, barely audible over the blaring music. Quickly turning his attention back to the Vagabond, the music making damn near impossible, he faintly heard the whole reason why he was here.

 

“It’s simple. You are never _ever_ to leave his side. Anything happens to him, any sign of him being unhappy, and it won’t be me you’ll answer to. Your debt payment goes to him then.” he nods towards the upper deck that is the V.I.P lounge.

 

It was clear who he was talking about, the man who acted like the damn king of the entire place, and for good reasons. You didn’t have to be involved in gangs or drug to know of Geoff fucking Ramsey. King Geoff, Lord of Los Santos, Kingpin and the names go on. He owned practically every business in the hell hole of a city and his spidery grasp reached far and wide into other cities and even over seas. His dark suit making him nearly hard to see in the dim lighting, but he could feel his gaze. Watching his every move, every time he took a sip of water or turned to look at the man on the dance floor. The Vagabond was his hitman and his left hand, he wasn’t about to find out what Geoff could do when truly angered. He knew that this wasn’t going to be easy, for fuck sake he hated his new job already. He wasn't sure how he could make it through and pay off his debt fully without fucking something up, but he had to do this for his wife. Taking a calming drink of water wishing it was hard liquor he kept repeating the same mantra, ‘He had to do this for her, for them’.

 

Without  awaiting for a response form him, Vagabond abruptly stood and took off heading up toward his boss disappearing in the crowd. Setting his glass down and standing he almost missed the little black phone left on the chair. Grabbing he looked the flip phone over, looking through thing and only saw two numbers in the contacts.  The thing was practically ancient in this day and age. No apps and no possible way to connect it to the internet. He wondered how it even worked still. Looking at the contacts again he saw no number but names:King and Knight. The actual fuck, what did they think they were in some fantasy game? He rolled his eyes and maneuvered his way to the exit before he got a text. Unknown name popped up, again no number, and all it read was a date and time. it was sometime for tomorrow and he tried to think if he had a anything planned but nothing came to him. Taking a deep breath he finally made it out, the crisp autumn air nipped at his skin and he pulled his hoodie tighter before making his way to a main street to call a cab. In the process of hailing a cab his phone went off. Pulling out the new one he realized it wasn’t that and and dug around for his personal one. Flinching as he saw the face of a happy pink and blond woman on the screen. He considered ignoring it but as a cab pulled up he swiped to the right and held the phone up answering.

 

“Hey babe,” he was hoping she was still half asleep, it would be easier to deal with her that way, but of fucking course things weren’t meant to go his way. The shouting and accusations came first, he held the phone away from his ear as he climbed into the car. Muting himself he gave the driver directions before focusing back to the call. Sighing heavily as really wished he grabbed at least one drink before leaving. When she finally finished yelling he could hear the tears in her voice and she hung up. It killed him to think of his wife going to bed crying like this. Some part of them though was growing tired of this routine they put on day after day. Glancing at the car's clock he winced, no wonder she was pissed. It was about time for her to get up for work. The break of dawn crept up the night sky as he finally made it home. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood but crime was relatively low and the house was affordable at the time. It was a nice two story house, white fence and all. It was their dream home when hey first got it. Now it was just a reminder of how far they've drifted apart since those days. Paying his fair he made his way into the house, hesitating for a moment, he decided the couch seemed like a better option to sleep on. Pulling out a beer from the fridge and flipped the TV on to some random channel. it was a news station reporting on a building fire that was caused by faulty wiring, speculations saying is was on purpose, and at this point he downed the beer. He turned the volume down as he propped his legs on the other side of the couch. Closing his eyes he can feel all the stress melt away and the exhaustion catch up to him. It wasn't too longer later and he passed out on the worn down couch.

 

* * *

 

It was approaching one p.m. when he finally crawled back into consciousness. He could feel the krick in his neck from the way he slept as he sat up. Stretching he waited for his brain to catch up with him, and then lingering smell of food hit him. She must have made lunch not too long ago, but he couldn’t hear any sounds within the house. Groaning he got up and empty his bladder before heading into the kitchen. As he originally thought a plate was left in the microwave for him. Heating it up he searched around for his phone on the couch. A few missed calls and texts, the ones he noted were from his wife and others from his friends. Only then did he notice the time and he cursed. He was fucking late and she was going to bitch up a storm. Leaving the food in the microwave he grab his keys and looked in the mirror making sure he didn't look too much like shit. Grabbing his hoodie on the way out he took off heading towards the physiciarist office.

 

His wife thought it would help, solve all of the marital problems like magic. Fucking nothing worked and all it did was drain their already limited income. It just let them pretend a little while longer that everything was okay. Let them ignore the fire the was slowly building as it consumed their marriage. But that was okay, was it?

 

Pulling in he took off, dashing into the small typical office ignoring the clerk. It was another unassuming place where people went to forget just how fucked up they were. White walls, cheap store bought art and plastic flowers. Pushing open the only door at the end of the hall he found his wife sitting in the lounge chair and the psychologist at her desk, like normal. It was comical how well they could put on their plastic smiles and pretend this was normal thing to do. He could see how she wasn’t even angry anymore, just tired of it all. Without saying anything he took the seat next to her as the doctor made notes probably about his arrival and tardiness. Always fucking notes, writing everything down like it was some magical formula that could unlock their happy ending.

 

“Michael, glad you could take off work for this. As you know these sessions are very important. Now we were just going over Lindsay’s private session.” she flipped through her fucking notebook and looked up at him, hoping he would start. When it became clear he wasn’t she gave them a strained smile. “So, as she was saying you’ve lost your job recently?” she prompted hoping to get him to talk.

 

A nod, more silence, “Electrician right? It must be very concerning to lose your only income and must be a strain at home. How are you dealing with this? How do and Lindsay feel about the loss?”

 

Her voice was grating on his nerves, too cheerful, too nosey. Why did he put up with this again. He glanced over and he was reminded why, for her and for them, but why couldn't they just give in. He sighed and turned back to the doctor. If he just imagined how she looked when they first met, bright eyes and happy smile, hair always changing color because she didn't have to work. But now, a soft blond color for her new office job and hated it. He wish he wouldn’t have to see how time aged her, how their marriage weighed on her, he wouldn’t have to see the emptiness between them. How irreparable they became and how the clung to the sliver hope that was long lost.

 

She spoke first, giving honest answers and it hurt to know she _was_ still trying after all this time. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it better. Not anymore at least, so why did he still want to? It's been years since they first met. They met at in their junior year after he moved to Texas from New Jersey and they fight all the time. They were so alike and everyone knew they'd get together. It was the beginning of senior year did he finally ask her out. Their relationships was rocky at first but they still held on through all the fights and break ups. When it came to college they both went different ways but they still kept going. Half way through their second year of schooling he manged to save up enough to get an admittedly keep ring and asked for her to be his. Things were okay and years passed by as he worked as an electrician and she did odd jobs in the media world. He finally managed to save up to buy a house as a wedding present and that's when she quit working and he became the main income while she followed her dreams. Times got tense as he worked tirelessly but they were still  _okay._ Time just finally torn them apart, and their argument became more and more frequent.

 

Silence filled the room and he took a deep breath pushing those thought away. He had to try, he _had_ to, for her. “I’m looking for other jobs but-”

 

“Your anger issues right?” if she cut him off one more time he was going to lose it.

 

Sure, he had issues doesn’t mean shit though. He could still get another job he just had to get the court to settle everything. “Yeah, ‘too dangerous’ is what I keep getting,” He heard a noise from his wife and he clenched his hands. He practically feel the judgment from them both and it was pushing all the wrong buttons, “I’ve told them I’m getting help and the fight or fire wasn’t my fault, but I think I got another job”

 

“Really? You didn’t tell me that, that’s great” the hopefulness in her voice was fucking torture.

 

The rest of the session dragged on as he zoned out unable to focus. They talked away happily, responding as he thought was appropriate when needed. God, this felt like ages and he wish he had a drink. His thought were cut off as he felt vibration from his jean pocket and his fished around for it. Both of them stopped talking and looked at him as he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t this one, and he knew he had to answer. Making an excuse he stepped out quickly before pulling the little flip phone out. He cursed, it was just  'Late' and fuck. He forgot about it when he supposed to met them today. There was no time to say goodbye or tell them where he was going, so he took off heading for the same night club feeling a little bit guilty. He could make it up to her after this.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, maybe not so much considering the time, the club was closed and empty. Well at least it appeared that way from the outside as there wasn't any cares in the parking lot and he couldn't hear the bass of the music form inside. He parked a few blocks away not wanting anyone to see his care here of all places. He had walked a the few blocks to the front of the club and made his way to the front door. He didn’t have to do anything before the brick house they called a bouncer let him through. It was a split second from when he first stepped in, and then everything flashed. First he saw the white and silver walls and the next he was looking at the gunmetal grey floors with a throbbing pain. Touching his nose as he felt blood, he could feel his anger rising, coming to a boil. Fucking Christ, he forgot his pills this morning in a rush. Okay, _one...two..._ another kick to the ribs tipped the pot over and he jumped up and swung blindly however his assailant was quicker grabbing his arms, twisting and shoving him into the wall. Michael snarled, struggling to break free in the iron grip to no avail.

 

A deep voice spoke, a hell of a lot closer than it should have been, “You’ll be on time next time” Not a question, no, it was command.

 

 _Three...deep breath....four...release_.

 

He swallowed thickly and calmed down somewhat and nodded. His arms was freed and it took him a minute to orient himself as the throbbing in his head continued. He looked around and saw a few faces in the upper crowd but no one he recognized. Looking back to Vagabond with a questioning glare only to have him turn suddenly on his heel taking off towards a door he missed the first time around. Straightening his hoodie out he he looked around the place as he held a hand over his bleeding nose.

 

“You could at least fucking talk asshole” he muttered following behind lest he get attacked again. Rolling his shoulder he can feel the pulled muscle and the bruises forming. How the fuck he was going to explain this; who the fuck was he kidding she didn’t fucking care.

 

The room he lead too was just another way up to the private rooms above the V.I.P. lounge area. If you didn’t work here this place was confusing to navigate as he was lead around similar looking hallways. Sure downstairs was a big open room reaching several feet high with a bar and a huge stage along the back wall. Above that was private tables surrounding the stage and dance floor with another bar in the center back, and above that was the private rooms for whatever the hell you could afford. No questions asked and you had a room for the sickest fantasies. That’s where they found themselves, in the middle standing in front of door that was golden with a green ‘G’ in a script kinda font. Knocking once, Vagabond opened the door and stepped in closing the and locking the door once he was inside. Looking around this had to be the largest room in the club by far. It was all white and black: black walls with flecks of gold, white marble floor swirled with green, and matching furniture. A large ‘U’ shaped couch framed the single golden dance pole in the center, further back was a monster of bed. A sheer white curtain split the room in two making it hard to see what was further back. What he could make out as Vagabond moved the curtains aside. He saw black with silver and golden sheets and pillows pilled high on the bed. On that bed was the Kingpin himself, and he had some whore currently entertaining him on his lap. The whore didn’t even stop what he was doing, just glanced over his shoulder as he continued. Red scratches marked his back, bite marks trailed down his hip matching the faint hand prints.

 

Michael looked around briefly before zeroing in on the two and he quickly looked away thankful that the curtain had covered them somewhat. What that actual hell, this isn’t what he signed up for-well he didn’t sign up for shit, but this wasn’t fucking normal for anyone to just _walk in on_. Vagabond just cleared his throat not even taking his eyes off the smaller male's ass as it moved up and down. Geoff slowly took his eyes off the prize in his lap and looked up to the other male arching an eyebrow in question.

 

He jerked his heads towards him and he clearly stood out of place out of the three of them. Cheeks flushed, desperately trying to pretend he was anywhere else but in the room, and definitely not hearing anything obscene at all. Rolling his eyes he gripped the slim man’s hips and picked up their slow and lazy pace bringing their fun to a quicker end. The sounds they were making was driving his further into the shame he was feeling, but this is what he got himself into and he had to lie in the grave he dug. Once they were finished he pushed the man off of him and got up reaching for the neatly folded pants on the end table. Shielding his eyes he looked away out of respect or just simply not wanting to see another man’s junk, probably both.

 

A sharp command forced him to look and he saw the other man stretched out on the, thankfully wrapped in the sheets. However quicker than he expected Ramsey was in front of him and Vagabond looming over his shoulder. This is probably what most people saw before their life ended and he was half  expecting a gun to temple or a knife to throat. To his surprise Ramsey gave him the once over before he took a seat on the couch, Reaching into the mini fridge next to it and pouring two glasses of some dark amber liquid. Vagabond however moved to shield the man on the bed as he just simply stood there hands clasped behind him in a mock military pose. Taking the hint Michael sat on the opposite side of the table taking the glass when it was offered by a heavily tattooed hand.

He swirled the glass and looked at him for a moment, giving him a chance to look the Kingpin over. Definitely he hand muscle on him that must have been hidden by the suits her normally wore. Black ink stained both arms and shoulders in an impressive array of tattoos. Scars littered his body, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache made him look ever part of both the gentleman and crime boss he was. He took a long gulp and set the glass on the coffee table. Relaxed and just merely observing him he lounged back spreading his arms on the back of the couch.

 

“In debt to me and late on your first day, you must think you’re fucking special. Or you’re just that dumb." He sounded so smug and arrogant and he could feel his limit being pushed. He had to clam down, getting upset wouldn't do a damn thing.

 

_Five...breathe in...six...release._

 

His hand tightened on the glass still refusing to drink form it wanting a clear mind right now. Not that it wasn't tempting but for all he knew it might be spiked and it was small form a resistance. “Look man, I’m sorry alright? Had a family thing going on and-”

 

He was cut off once again and could feel his control slipping faster, “Your sessions with your wife? Reschedule, your new job demands a lot of time and you’re going to need more training for this task.” Who the fuck did he think he was. This asshole has another thing coming if he's just going to give in.

 

_Seven...in…_

 

“Vagabond will under see your training. You have a lot of spunk but your petty bar fights won’t cover shit when it comes down to it. You need to be ready to defend or attack when asked,” he sat up straight reaching for his glass again and taking another drink.

 

He nodded going along with him for now, “Look man-” 

 

This time is was the silent wall of  man “Sir,” he cut in and are you fucking kidding why couldn't finish a damn sentence today.

 

_Eight...out_

 

“Sir, I know you guys helped out a lot with the case and fees and I’m in no position to talk but I don’t know if I can change that soon. It would look off to everyone.” his hand was clenching tightly at this point, his restraint was straining.

“Well ain’t that fucking nice. Too bad I don’t give a shit. My money, my rules. So listen hear Michael fucking Jones, you fucked up. Fucked up real bad and now you're in debt to us, to me. So any say you might have had is gone out of the window.” He finished his drink and relaxed posture was gone replaced by the hard look and tight lines around his mouth.

 

_Nine…_

 

He grits his teeth and tried so hard to stay calm, but he was just pushing all the wrong buttons and he was about to snap, “It didn’t fucking mean to burn anything down, and then that asshole-” of fucking course he was cut off.

 

_...In_

 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. All signs point to you and the court was inclined to agree.” he folded his hand together, leaning forward, elbows on his knees propping him up, “You got drunk, decided enough was enough, let your work slip through and well…” he waved his hand casually, “One lit cigarette and alcohol don’t really mix, and those exposed wires..." he trailed off giving him a grin, "Well at least that’s as far as the cops know and they’ll know only what I fucking tell him. So it comes down to you versus me. So as it stands, you now owe me a hell of a lot of money and you're going to fucking bleed for it.”

 

_Ten...and fuck this._

 

Michael smashed the glass on the floor as he jumped up kicking the coffee table over. It skidded on the smooth floor cracking against the golden pole. Now, several things happened all at once that no one could keep track of. The glass shattered on the white floor, Vagabond had a pistol drawn and pointed at his head, Ramsey stood knife in hand aimed at his throat, and he was halfway to punching Ramsey out. The gun clicked and bullet was loaded, sleepy green eyes watched them from the bed after awaking from the sound and Ramsey had the biggest fucking smug smirk on his damned face. Amber liquid dripped off the coffee table, spreading as time seemed to freeze, waiting for someone to act. He was deciding between the bullet to his head and knocked the Kingpin out where he stood.

 

Clapping broke the stand off and he dropped his guard giving the guy with a gun an opening to pistol whip him upside the head, and he staggered backwards until was sprawled out on the couch. From the first hit to the head to this one he was going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow. Blinking to get his vision back into focus he saw a skinny man drape himself over the back of the couch where he was, a gaudy gold and black checkered tunic was his only cover. A lazy grin on his face and he looked down at him, giving a small wave.

 

“He's got some fight in him Geoff, can I keep him?” this pricks voice was British, that was fucking great, he was being talked about like he was a damned pet. He sounded stupid and it grated on his already frayed nerves. Ramsey picked his glass up and downed the rest of his whiskey and setting it back on top of the mini fridge. He sat back down and the man sauntered over to wrap his long, lanky arms Ramsey, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “You better fucking house train him or he’s gonna end up like the last one.” 

 

Giving him another kiss on his cheek the grin grew wider as he hopped over the couch to land beside his pounding head “You hear that Boi? You’ll be mine!” His vision swam in and out and that annoying British voice faded as he passed out. He was so fucking screwed and he he just wanted to sleep.

 

Gavin huffed and looked up at the masked man with a pout “Ryan! You knocked him out! Haven’t I told you play nicer with the new ones?” All he got was a shrug as he tucked the gun away, safety still off. “Fine, you can carry him to the place. I’m gonna go back to bed.” with that he blew a kissed to his lover and fell back on the bed and was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day he awoke in an unfamiliar place, grey wall and stiff bed under his back. Looking around he felt like his was some loony bin’s room with how bland and white it was and the frosted glass window. He was still the same clothes as yesterday and when he sat up he spotted some more clothes folded on the only other piece of furniture in the room. Groaning he could definitely feel the beating from yesterday along with grime from two days without a shower. Getting up he noticed the open hole where a door should be that lead to a bathroom. Well it’s not like he could do much else, the only door had a like fifteen fucking locks so it was shower time. Stripping out his clothes he stepped in under the cold spray hoping it would jog him awake, and boy fucking howdy did it. 

 

After getting dressed he tried to kick off a few locks hoping to break out but that wasn’t going to happen. He made it through a few of him before he got tired. Bruised and bleeding knuckles he decided to lay down. Besides the clothes, they hadn’t given him anything else and there was nothing to do in the room. So he grew bored fast, which resulting him shouting random insults and demands until something happened. Fucking hours must have passed before someone finally opened the door and he was surprised to see a big woman come through. Short cut hair curly read hair, and a leopard print jacket with white shorts, and she looked nice. With a big smile on her face she set down a tray he hadn’t realized she was carrying at first.

 

“Hi! You must be Micheal! I’m Jack, I’m so excited to get another member in our family” holy shit, she was chipper for a gang member. Weren’t they all supposed to be tough, broody and badass? And oh boy could he smell the food and his stomach decided to let him know he wanted some. Standing up he shot the woman a glare and then eyed the food. It wasn't much but it looked good at the moment.

 

“Not gonna be one of you fucking gangbangers, just fucking paying debt” he grumbled and he saw a strange look pass over her face before that smile was back. 

 

“Oh, well here's food for ya. Vagabond will be by soon and you’ll meet the rest of your coworkers and you’ll get the run down. Need anything else?” still so fucking happy.

 

“Yeah, out of here”

 

She laughed and shook her head and closed the door in response and he was left alone. The tray had oatmeal, a shake looking drink, two round blue pills and water. Everything was plastic and there was only a spoon. Deciding to say fuck it, if the were going to kill them it wouldn’t be poisoning they’d use. Not Ramsey's style but he wasn't sure about anyone else in wherever he was. He dug into the oatmeal first. It wasn’t bad, sweeter than he liked but it was better than nothing. Next was the shake and, oh god, it was a disgusting protein shake, powdery and chalky feeling on his tongue. He ignore the pills and shoved the tray away once he was done. More hours passed with nothing to do he was slowly drifting out. Then Vagabond came in, without saying anything he looked at Michael and made a motion for him to follow and then walked back out. Couldn’t this fucking guy use actual words or something it was annoying to interpret everything. 

 

He lead him in another maze of halls and corridors and all Michael could get that this wasn’t the same place as the club. Fucking wonderful, kidnapped and in an unknown location this was starting off great. His wife probably hadn’t noticed him missing or if she did maybe she threw a party that he was gone. They stopped at a massive personal gym, punching bags and weights to expensive Olympic kind of equipment that probably didn’t even work like they said it would. A few men were scattered here and there, no one he recognized though that was no surprise, so no help was to be found there. Vagabond lead him to a corner and ran him through the schedule his was to follow for the next few weeks, and his body was already aching from just talking about the regiment. 

 

They started out light for the first week, still not allowed to leave, and only allowed the bland food and disgusting shakes. After the first few days he stopped getting the pills that he never took and was thankful for that. It was the second week when he was allowed some freedom and could leave into a living room with a TV and Xbox. The next day Jack allowed him his personal phone so he can see that in fact they had contacted his wife posing as him and by now he was he was to exhausted to be pissed at the moment. She thought he was away on business trip for training since it was a new ‘company’ called RoosterTeeth. She was pissed that he left without telling her but she quickly got over it and continued with her small job.

 

He never saw Ramsey or the British boy again and was thankful for that small reprieve. He met a few people here and there but the only two he saw regularly was Jack and Vagabond. Jack he preferred out of the two, at least she talked to him and actually informed him of some things. For next month that was his life, training and learning from Jack about their world. Who was who, who was important to the gang, the basics of what they did, and more about his cover story of his job. It easy to fall into a routine and if he was going to be honest he liked how ripped he looked from it. Sure being an electrician got him some muscle but never like this.  Days blurred together as he went from the bland room to the gym, and it wasn’t until it was nearing the end of the month they allowed him more freedom. He was becoming comfortable and he almost forgot why he was even here to begin with. Dealing with Vagabond he was sure he was going to snap without his pills but to his surprise he was the one who showed him a better way to handle his anger problem. Something he grateful even if he wasn’t going to say it to his face.

 

* * *

 

 

That’s where he found himself, in the gym just tearing up a worn down punching bag. He just got so worked up being alone with his thoughts and he just need to let the frustrations out. It didn’t even occur to him he hadn’t seen Jack or Vagabond yet. Normally his days consisted of his regiment at the gym then some type of combat training, and then he’d Jack who informed of the hierarchy of the underground world and kept him up to date on different job he might have to do. Out of both of them, he preferred Jack more, she didn’t piss him off nearly as much and when she was a round he got his phone back to text his wife with so made up updates. so that was bonus, besides he liked something to break the silence. come to think of it, he never remembered Vagabond talking besides when they first met and when he clocked him for being late. Remembering that beating sent him into another fit of anger renewing his energy to keep ripping a part that punching bag.

 

He was really getting into the swing of things today, so much  he didn’t realize someone was standing off in the distance watching him. When he did he gave a hard punch to the bag and glared at the guy, “What do you want you fuck?” he snapped annoyed.

  
He smirked and adjusted the gun the was slung across his shoulder, “You must the newby, come on you got your first job.” he turned and headed towards the door.

 

It finally sunk in and he took a deep breath. This is where is his new life begins.

 

 


End file.
